An Impossible Attraction by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online

had been pinned up in curls, and she wore one of their mother’s pale ivory ball gowns. Their gazes met. Alexandra was so proud of her.
    “You do look beautiful,” Olivia whispered.
    Alexandra squeezed her hand. “So do you—and so does Corey. We are going to have a lovely evening—all because of the squire.”
    Denney beamed. “I hope so,” he said.
    Alexandra glanced at Corey. Her eyes were huge as she stared out of the carriage at the arriving guests, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement, too. She was almost as tall as Alexandra, and only a bit slimmer in build, and the pale blue watered silk was stunning on her. It was far too adult for someone of sixteen, but there hadn’t been anything else in Alexandra’s closet. Corey looked eighteen, at least, and terribly beautiful.
    Alexandra felt a pang. Corey and Olivia had never been out in society, not like this—and though she did not want to blame anyone, there was one person to blame. She reminded herself that their father was no longer himself. Elizabeth Bolton’s death had crushed him, leaving him with no passion but drink and gaming, and no spirit to challenge that passion. Did it matter? Her sisters deserved more, and maybe something good would come of this night for them. The gentlemen present would have to be blind not to notice them.
    Suddenly hoofbeats sounded, as if an army was approaching. It was almost their turn to alight, but Alexandra turned, as did her sisters, the squire and Edgemont. A huge black coach, pulled by six magnificent blacks, red-and-gold crests emblazoned upon its doors, passed them, clearly cutting to the head of the line. As it did so, gravel sprayed their carriage.
    Alexandra stared after the magnificently attired footmen, in red-and-gold livery, pale stockings, patent shoes and long, curled white wigs. She felt her tension increase. She reminded herself that when Elizabeth Bolton was alive, she had been to a few high-society fetes. Being nervous was absurd. Would anyone really care about their sudden appearance in society, or that they wore older clothes? But now she worried, and not for herself. She did not want her sisters ridiculed tonight.
    The huge coach had halted, though she could not see who had gotten out. But she thought she glimpsed a tall, dark figure striding through the crowd, bypassing the queue and directly entering the house.
    Oddly, her heart thundered, and she stared.
    “Ah, it’s our turn to alight,” Denney exclaimed. A coachman had opened his door, and he got out.
    Her father was about to follow Denney to the curb. He must not ruin this for them, she suddenly thought. And she did not trust him. She settled in her seat and faced her father, resolved. “I prefer that you do not overimbibe tonight.”
    His eyes widened in shock. Then, “You cannot talk to me that way, Alexandra.”
    She firmed. The one thing she could control, or at least try to control, was her father’s drinking. “There is a flask in your pocket. May I have it?”
    He gasped and turned red.
    She held out her hand and somehow smiled. “If you want me to marry Squire Denney, it will not help if he sees you stumbling about. And, more importantly, what if Corey and Olivia attract suitors tonight? We are clearly in dire straits, and that means our behavior must be impeccable.”
    Grumbling, Edgemont took a tarnished silver flask from his pocket, and then, before handing it over, he took a swig. “Father!” Alexandra reproved.
    “You remind me more of your mother every day,” he groused, handing her the flask.
    Alexandra uncapped it and poured the contents out the window. Then she exchanged looks with her sisters. “It is our turn.”
    Corey was somehow both pale and flushed at once. Alexandra murmured, “You will be fine.” She gave her hand to Denney’s coachman—he did not have liveried footmen, obviously—and stepped down to the ground. Her sisters followed.
    Olivia came close and whispered, “What are you thinking? We